Her Dark Materials
by slasher454
Summary: Hermione steals a book from Grimmauld place. A book of Dark Magic. People who play with fire seldom strike a match. Or own their own burn cream. HG/TN Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to JKR.

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The library at Grimmauld Place was a haven for mysterious and enlightening reading material.

Hermione supposed that Sirius had never really spent much time there or he would have found the books on ward breaking and done a better job sealing off the case that held the books on dark magic. She imagined he'd always been a lazy sod, though.

The first set of wards were his and were, frankly, ridiculously easy to disable. They were the same wards he used on the kitchen cupboard where he kept his biscuits (as if anyone else would eat them!)

The second set of wards took her hours to pick, and simply reeked of Molly Weasley's wand work. Of course Molly wouldn't trust Sirius Black for such a job when Fred and George were around to make mischief.

But goddamn it all if there wasn't a third set.

A third set that tickled her senses with the subtle hint of dark and stopped her cold in her tracks. They were a complicated weaving of alarms, dark warnings, bands of hexes, and memory spells. Each time she encountered them, she found herself back in her room, her wand hand throbbing, wondering what the hell she had been doing for the past hour.

It was frustrating work, and at times seemed utterly futile. Whoever had placed these wards knew what they were doing. At first she assumed it was Professor Dumbledore, but the more time she spent working on it, the darker the origins of the spells appeared to be. There was only one person that frequented 12 Grimmauld Place who not only knew such magic, but had the audacity to use it in the very headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Severus sodding Snape.

If only his officiousness had extended to the rest of the library, he might have succeeded in thwarting her. But no, like Sirius, he didn't bother to give a second look at any of the books that didn't deal in teaching dark magic and left an entire series on warding and curse breaking in plain sight.

On the last day of summer break, she stayed up almost the entire night and finally managed to pick the third layer of wards. With trembling hands she skimmed over the titles looking for the one that had called to her so strongly when she found it in Regulus' bedroom months ago.

_Ars de Potestas: Compulsus ac Compagis_ (Art of Power: Compulsion & Binding)

Before making the mistake of showing it to Sirius, she had flipped through the pages and saw that Regulus had filled the margins on almost every page with cramped notes relating to ways the spells could be adapted and thwarted, and mentions of Voldemort and the Dark Mark.

Holding it her hands again sent a thrill through her. She quickly tucked the book into her robes and reset the wards on the case. The book felt warm against her chest and she briefly considered taking it to bed with her so as not to let it out of her sight. To her dismay, she knew it was best to hide it immediately. She wrapped tightly in a hooded jumper and tucked it safely into her trunk and warded the lock with one of Snape's alarm/stinger combinations.

Knowing it was in her trunk was a distraction almost the entire train ride to Hogwarts. Her thoughts turned from wondering if anyone would notice the wards on the bookcase had been tampered with, to whether or not the book might be dangerous, to the possibility that it was so dark it might set of the school wards and alert the Professors to what she had done.

Gods. She, Hermione Jean Granger, had defied the will of The Order and stolen, _stolen_ from Sirius Black.

_Borrowed, borrowed, borrowed_, she corrected herself.

She had every intention of putting it back, after all. She'd read it, copy and research the most relevant spells and notes with Harry and Ron, and replace the book to its case over the hols. No harm done.

Pity than life never seems to work out that way.

When she made mention of perhaps studying such material, Harry and Ron went crazy, reminding her that all the older members of The Order had said it was dangerous and about what had happened to Ginny. As if she needed reminding. Couldn't they trust her that this book was different? It was just a book. A dark book, yes, but still just a book.

No, it was best to do this research without them, because they were so stubborn and self righteous. And she just had to know.

What was it about his Dark Mark that had caused Regulus Black to spend so much time trying to decode its mystery? Did he want to be rid of it? Was that even possible? Compulsion and Binding, that was what the book was about. What sort of magic did Voldemort burn into his followers?

She was going to find out.

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Studying in Gryffindor tower was never easy. Her housemates were loud, rowdy, and really quite obnoxious. No one could seem to mind their own business, nor quell the urge to make what she imagined they thought were witty observations about her study habits.

It was a risk to work in the library, but if she stayed in the back near the reference section she was pretty well assured that she'd not see another soul except for the occasional Ravenclaw. That was hardly a problem since they were generally too elitist and self absorbed to give a damn about what sort of meaningless drivel anyone else was working on.

There was one other person that she hadn't really given much thought to until two weeks into her research when he took a seat at the table facing hers, Theodore Nott.

He was always in the library as well. She hadn't really noticed him much until 4th year when Harry outed his father as a Death Eater. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were incensed, whispered vile things, and made threatening gestures. Theodore was pensive, silent, and utterly inscrutable, as always.

Slytherin to the core.

Despite being one of the better looking 7th years, she never knew him to have a girlfriend, or any friends really. He was jus there, his dark sea green eyes hidden beneath a mop of wavy dark hair, or behind the pages of a book. His presence near her in the library had never bothered her before that night at the Department of Mysteries when she incapacitated his father and got him thrown into Azkaban, but it had made her a tad uneasy ever since.

More than a tad tonight.

She was careful about which books she selected in case he was watching. She began with _Oaths, Pledges, and Bindings_ and _Magical Marriage_. The latter wouldn't be of as much help, but Regulus had made a note about vows of soul binding, which she knew was part of many wizarding marriage ceremonies. If Theodore was watching, she hoped he'd assume she was learning about marriage customs.

After 3 hours of scanning text for relevant information, copious note taking, and painstaking spell decoding, Madam Pince made her intentions to close up known by extinguishing the lamps one by one. By the time Hermione had finished writing some last minute notes connecting the dark mark to binding spells that draw out ones magic, it had gotten quite dark in her section of the library and she noticed she was now alone. She quickly replaced the reference books, gathered those she had checked out, along with her notes and Regulus' book and headed for the door.

As she crossed the last isle and walked out the door, she glanced down to rearrange her awkward load and ran full on into solid wall of Slytherin prefect. Namely, Theodore Nott.

Her books and notes tumbled from her arms, scattering across the hall. He looked down at the mess of books and notes and a small smile played about his lips as she scurried and bent to retrieve them all. Wearing only her white blouse and skirt, she exposed a great deal of leg and décolletage to his eye each time she bent over.

She quickly managed to secure her notes, cursing Theodore under her breath for his utter lack of manners, and began tucking her books back under her arm when a familiar and dreaded footfall bore down on them both. To her horror, the feet in question came to a halt just in front of Regulus' book.

She stood still, unable to move, hardly able to breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she could only imagine how she must look. A doe in headlights, perhaps? He glanced from the book to her wide eyed-face and back down again. She was sure she was going to be stripped of her Head Girl position if not expelled once he realized what it was.

She attempted to contain her horror when Snape read the title and made move to pick it up. Theodore was quicker and with a flick of wand had summoned the book into his own hands.

Snape's head snapped up and he eyed Theodore with an icy regard. "As I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Nott, dark arts texts are not permitted to leave the restricted section." His slow drawl emphasized every syllable, weighing them with menace.

Theodore replied evenly, "This isn't a library book, Sir." He held the book firmly to his chest, denoting his will not to part with it.

"Indeed. Do you mean to suggest that the book belongs to you, Mr. Nott?" Snape questioned, his tone and manner laden with warning as he glanced meaningfully at Hermione.

"I do, Sir," Theodore replied, meeting Snape's challenge coolly.

The book was class D at worst and Theodore was of age. And Snape knew it.

"50 points from Slytherin, Mr. Nott, for your uncharacteristic lack of prudence," Snape replied, undisguised contempt curling his lip into a sneer.

Snape turned his sneer from Theodore to Hermione and narrowed his eyes further as if to assure her that this was not over, and then stormed down the hall leaving Hermione and Theodore alone in the moonlit corridor outside the library.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes shining with wonder and sincerity.

"For what?" he asked, his brows raised.

"For helping me," she replied guilelessly.

He blew a mocking breath through his nose. "How presumptuous," he replied coolly, a devious smile curling his lips.

_Oh_, she realized, _he plans to keep it_. How perfectly Slytherin of him. Not that she should have expected anything less. Well, she simply couldn't allow it. For one thing, she still needed to finish her research, and for another, Professor Snape now had a very good idea that she had stolen it and would be heading to Grimmauld Place to prove it at his earliest convenience. And, last but not least, she didn't think it was a good idea for Theodore Nott, son of a known Death Eater, to have access to that book, even if she had heavily charmed and warded it to open only for her.

Theodore was clever.

"That book isn't mine," she confessed.

"I believe we've established that," he replied smugly.

"The person I … _borrowed_ it from is going to want it back," she rejoined meaningfully.

"And this concerns me?" he asked, calling her bluff.

"Please, Theodore," she conceded and attempted her to play her next card: pretty female in distress. "I _really need _that book back."

He liked that she begged and allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "What are you prepared to offer for it?"

"I've got 8 galleons in my bag," she offered lamely.

"Do you realize who you're talking to?" he asked with an air of offense.

"How much do you expect me to give you for it? It isn't a rare or valuable," she lied easily, "and it's not like it cost you anything …" She put on her prettiest sulk, looking up at him with cow eyes and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I beg to differ," he replied, raising his brow at her antics, "I paid 50 points for it. From _Professor Snape_."

And his housemates would know it, she inferred. "I'll help you get them back," she stated earnestly.

"How?" he asked.

She put her hand on her hip and replied as to state the obvious, "I'm _Head Girl_."

_Arrogant chit!_ As if he would allow his housemates to see him taking points from the Gryffindor princess. "No, thank you."

"What _do_ you want?" she huffed, now feeling a bit exasperated with him. She didn't want to duel him for it, but nothing else had worked and a well timed hex might get her the book as well as a running start back to her dorm.

Her cheeks were flushed and her poise was petulant and intrepid at once. Her lower lip was pink and puffy and glistened from being recently released from between her teeth. Her clothes and hair were in disarray and she appeared ready to begin firing hexes at any moment. She looked utterly fuckable like this, he thought.

And he had something she wanted quite badly.

"Meet me at the top of the astronomy tower tomorrow night at midnight," he ordered and then turned on his heel and headed toward the dungeons.

"What for?" she called after him.

"Negotiations," he replied without looking back.

It wouldn't do to have her see him smirk so lasciviously.

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**A/N:** Oooh, looky, a whole chapter without smut. Um ... is it any good?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR

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Over a month's worth of ward cracking and two more of researching during every spare moment, all the while worrying she'd be caught for all of this. And just when she was so close to understanding Regulus' theories and how they might help Harry, just when she was so close to getting away with it all, she's robbed. All her machinations for naught.

Or rather for _Nott_.

Bloody Slytherin.

It was just like one of them to swoop in and steal the spoils of someone else's hard work. She should have hexed him when he turned his back on her, the supercilious prat. Of course, he _knew_ she wouldn't. It was utterly un-Gryffindor to hex someone when their back was turned.

She hoped the wards she set had held him off, though she suspected that the Nott family library could rival that of the Black's, and unlike Sirius, Theodore liked to read.

She pushed the possible implications of that out of her mind. There was no sense getting in a snit about it before meeting with him, and regrettably, she had come to the conclusion that she did indeed have to meet with him. He hadn't been in the library or at the Slytherin table for meals all day and she no idea when she might see him alone again. She couldn't afford to wait.

The corridors were dark and cool as she glided toward the tower stairs. She was early, but she suspected he would be even earlier. As she neared the top of the tower, she took a moment to steady her breath before entering the darkened room where Theodore was certain to be waiting.

"Couldn't wait to see me again?" he teased from the shadows.

"If I appear overeager it's because I'm anxious to have my book back," she stated evenly.

"Yours now, is it?" he drawled as he stepped toward her and into the moonlight.

She shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to concede nor create more conflict.

"Funny," he continued with mock curiosity, "it has someone else's name inscribed inside the cover."

So, he _had_ opened it. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in a gracious nod of recognition for his achievement over her wards. He held up his wand hand and flexed it, signifying the injury he had sustained while attempting the feat, and she smiled despite herself.

"You're a very clever witch, Hermione."

"For a mudblood, you mean," she added.

"Don't put words in my mouth," he rejoined curtly.

Mildly surprised, she nodded to him again and replied, "My apologies."

Existing in what was appearing to be a mutually agreed upon equal footing with a Slytherin was a new and interesting experience. Though she, of course, took it with salt. She didn't really know Theodore, but she knew enough not to trust him.

"Those were perhaps the most creative wards I've ever encountered, and I've encountered many. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say you learned your warding techniques from the same place you got this book."

She replied with another shrug.

He grinned at her, his dark blue-green eyes piercing into hers, and he appeared both handsome and dangerous at once. "Tell me where you got this book," he ordered, waving the book before her.

"No," she replied, a bit annoyed with the command.

"Can't or won't?" he questioned.

"Does it matter?" she rejoined.

He closed the space between them and began circling her. "As a matter of fact."

Clever boy. Dangerous, sneaky, clever boy. If she, in fact, _couldn't_ tell, he'd know it was somewhere secret-kept. How much had he guessed already? Had he spoken to his father since the old man had escaped from Azkaban?

"I'm sure you're well aware that admitting to having contact with certain types of people could be grounds for expulsion from this school among other legal difficulties," she parried effectively.

He smiled at her again, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. She'd struck a nerve. He swooped around behind her once more and whispered in her ear, "That and Potter would be most upset."

"Leave him out of this," she replied curtly, shaking off the not-so-unpleasant shiver his breath on her ear had sent up her spine.

"Why?" he queried accusingly, pulling away from her. "He's got everything to do with why you would _borrow_ this book."

"You're wrong. He doesn't know anything about it," she said with certain honesty, stepping toward the window to keep him from crossing behind her again.

"Oh," he grinned, the moonlight dancing in his eyes, "A clandestine affair, is it?"

She suppressed her indignity at the suggestion and continued playing their game. "Not exactly the type of thing a girl's going to brag about, is it?"

"Depends on what you've gotten out of it," he smirked lasciviously. He stepped closer again, and she found herself pinned between the window ledge and his long frame.

She narrowed her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Why else would I be here?" he replied, arms outstretched displaying his broad chest.

The moonlight on his face cast him in soft blue making him seem paler, ethereal. But he was so close that even as the chill from the stone wall behind her began to seep toward her bones, she could feel the heat coming off of him, reminding her that he was very real and very close. He smelled of spiced soap and an indiscernible sweetness. Fresh ripe plums, she imagined, and unthinkingly licked her lips.

"Oh, I see," he said softly, leaning imperceptibly closer. "_The tower at midnight_. You thought …"

"No!" she cried out a bit more barking than she had intended, and she felt the heat of a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I thought nothing of the sort. I came here for the book. Nothing else."

"Are you sure?" he teased, "It is our last year and everyone should get at least one snog atop the tower before leaving Hogwarts."

"Well, you'll just have to find someone else to pop that cherry for you Theodore," she quipped.

He pulled his face back, his mouth rounded in insult, but his eyes were shining with glee at her audacious wit. At last, a worthy playmate.

"But, Miss Granger, I was hoping to find a woman with experience to teach me, and here you are. Tell me, how many young men have you _entertained_ up here? Let me guess … Krum?"

She flushed.

"Weasley?"

She pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze.

"Potter?"

Her eyes snapped back up to his, looking horrified and insulted by the very idea.

"I've seen the way you dote on him in potions," he supplied as proof.

"Much the way you do with Malfoy?" she fired back.

"Not nearly so much as that, though one can't exactly be blamed for it, can they? He's ever so dreamy," he drawled playfully.

"Malfoy or Harry?" she questioned coyly.

"Both, actually," he rejoined. "What do you suppose would happen first if we locked them in a cupboard together, murder or sex?"

She knew it was disloyal but she couldn't help her giggle. "Perhaps we should try it sometime and find out."

"I suspect," Theodore predicted, "that Draco is a bottom. And a noisy one, too."

"Just a suspicion?" she probed with a sly grin.

"Well, I have heard some howling and whinnying down in the dungeons, but I've always assumed that was Professor's Snape and Trelawney.

She clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Oh my gods," as her body shook with repressed laughter.

He watched with pleasure while she flushed and laughed. Things had gotten off to a good start. But of course it couldn't last.

As soon as she regained her composure she straightened up and commanded him, "Give me the book."

He couldn't suppress his smile at her spunk even as he quirked his brows at her in question.

She huffed exasperatedly, "We are here to negotiate, are we not? You give me the book back and I'll tell you what I've discovered about it."

"That doesn't sound like a very fair trade to me," he replied with a frown, "I know how to use the card catalogue in the library. Besides, why should I trust you to tell me everything? You haven't exactly been honest so far."

"_I _haven't been honest?" she replied incredulously.

"You said the book was neither rare nor valuable," he reminded. "It is most certainly both."

"It's also _not_ mine," she rejoined, "and the wizard I took it from will come for it."

"Is that a threat?" he asked archly.

"No, a warning," she feigned, "One should avoid his bad side as he's … not quite sane."

"12 years in Azkaban will do that to a wizard," he smirked.

"I've heard it can take far less," she replied meaningfully.

He shrugged nonchalantly, though his brow wrinkled unhappily. "Some people aren't quite right before being sent there to begin with."

Her eyebrows reached for her hairline. Did he suggest he thought his father was 'not quite right?' Far be it for her to disagree after their exchange of curses at the Department of Mysteries. She tilted her head to him once more and considered what he was hoping to get out of this exchange.

"You read the book, then?" she stated more than asked.

"Most of it," he replied, his brow still wrinkled.

"And what do you make of it?" she questioned with unabashed curiosity.

"I imagine the same you did," he answered, "The writer was not pleased with what he discovered about his … gift."

"If he was right, I can't imagine anyone would be happy about it," she replied candidly, "No sane person would want a _gift_ with that many strings attached."

Theodore pondered his next statement carefully. There were things in the book that shocked him, but more with fear than actual surprise. Granger was smart and she had gone to all the right books, even the ones on marriage, to find the answers to the questions the book posed. And if she was being honest, they were the only ones who knew that either of them were privy to such information. It could be beneficial to have her help.

"He writes that the conventus-animus charm was used in the creation of his mark. I can't think of any reason to use such a spell if not to bind the powers of the … receiver, directly to the giver."

She hesitated a bit not wanting to give up any of her bargaining chips, but decided it was better to prove her worth now, "There isn't one. He also wrote that the fidelitas vernula was woven with a talio hex that invoked familia aevum corripio. If that's true, then anyone with the same mark cannot turn against _the giver_ without sacrificing every member of their family that carries a similar mark."

"All members of a family are pushed to take the mark," he offered somberly.

"You …" she began.

"No," he answered, "Some have been anxious for it, but I've held them off. I promised to _enlist_ after school. I was really just waiting for my birthday so I could take the inheritance my mother left me and run." That was more than he ever planned to share with anyone. He eyed her for her reaction and was irritated to find her rather unexpressive either way. "Do you think me a coward?" he asked.

"No," she answered quickly, "I think I might do the same in your position."

"You would run and leave your friends and family to fight a war without you?" he asked a bit incredulously. As far as he knew, she'd never run from anything in her life.

"I agree with what my friends are fighting for," she answered honestly, "But if I didn't, I don't think I could ever turn my wand _against_ them."

He seemed mollified if not somewhat relieved by her answer.

"May I have the book now?" she asked, extending her hand.

"Not yet," he replied, tucking the book back into his robes.

"I gave you your answers," she responded with an edge, pushing him for fair play. "If you want to read my research, I can make copies for you," she added.

He nodded. "That would save me some trouble, but …"

"But what?" she snapped, "What else could you possibly want from me?"

He smirked again. She was prettiest when in the midst of an oncoming snit.

"I want …"

"Yes?" she questioned impatiently.

"You …"

"Me what?" she huffed.

"_You_," he intoned meaningfully.

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**A/N:** Oh cliffy cakes! Thanks so much to those who took the time to review. It's nice to know that people are reading. It does take a good amount of time to do this, and without reviews, it feels quite pointless.

So, what do you think? How far will she be willing to go to get the book back?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**Warning:** Lemonade! and _maybe_ a teeny, tiny bit of questionable consent. Just throwing it out there for those sensitive to it.

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_"But what?" she snapped, "What else could you possibly want from me?"_

_He smirked again. She was prettiest when in the midst of an oncoming snit._

_"I want …"_

_"Yes?" she questioned impatiently._

_"You …" _

_"Me what?" she huffed._

_"You," he intoned meaningfully._

xxxxxxx

His implications became suddenly and offensively clear. "I'm _not_ fucking you for it, Theodore," she said, her face crumpling in distaste. Yes, she wanted it back, but not bad enough to whore for it!

"I'd be willing to take less, but _more of it_," he offered suggestively.

"Meaning?" she questioned, her temper barely restrained.

"For starters, I'd like to kiss you," he replied, his voice lilting enticingly.

Her interest warred with her incredulity. "_For starters?_"

"I promise, you will leave this tower with the book and your virtue as in tact as it is now, if you wish it. You only agree to let me kiss you." His eyes gleamed with earnestness.

_Just a little kissing?_ she thought. It was a tempting offer, but still insulting, and what if they were caught?! "It's late …" she began, glancing toward the door.

"It's perfect," he replied, turning his back to her to ward the door. "The patrols finished hours ago. No one's going to catch us."

She eyed the closed door with concern, but not fear. She knew there would be a price to get the book back, but she hadn't expected this.

"Come on Granger … _Hermione_," he temped, "just let me kiss you."

"Just kissing?" she asked skeptically.

"With tongue," he corrected, "and some touching." He could sense that she was about to balk and added, "If you don't like the way I touch you, you can ask me to stop, but I get to kiss you for as long as I want."

If she were willing to admit it to herself, she was really quite turned on by all the bantering with this good looking and mysterious Slytherin, and ready for a good snog. Though her sense of decency recoiled at the very idea of agreeing, she used the book to excuse it to herself, imagining rushing to replace it first thing in the morning. She slowly nodded her head 'yes,' making sure he understood this was a sacrifice she submitted to a bit unwillingly, all the while trying to ignore the rapid beat of her heart and tingling flush of arousal between her legs.

He smiled victoriously and held up his wand. She wavered for a moment, and then reluctantly tapped her own against it. The magic binding their agreement swirled around them and she sucked in an anxious and excited breath.

His eyes glittered with triumph and lust. She tilted her face up toward his, preparing for his kiss, her heart pounding almost painfully. But, instead of brushing his warm, soft looking lips against hers, he slowly dropped to his knees before her. She looked down at him in question and he gently began to raise her skirt.

"Stop it!" she hissed, knocking his hands away. "I didn't agreed to _that_!"

"Yes, you agreed to let me kiss you," he smiled roguishly, "you never asked where."

The cunning, manipulative bastard. He had actually negotiated to kiss her _there_.

With _tongue_.

"Absolutely not!" she spat.

"You agreed, Hermione," he warned, "We took an oath. I won't release you from it."

"Keep the book, you disgusting pervert," she railed, and shoved him out of her path on the way to the door.

He chuckled softly as she tugged on the door to no avail. "Drop your wards, Theodore," she warned.

"My wards are set to prevent anyone from coming _in,_ Hermione," he smirked, "It's your own magic that's preventing you from leaving. You took an oath, Pet."

"Release me!" she commanded, her fiery gaze burning into his.

"I don't think so," he replied coolly, though his blood was boiling with desire. She would give in, because he knew she wanted to. "A deal is a deal, and I want to taste you. Come now, I dare say you'll enjoy it," he continued as he moved to kneel before her again.

She whimpered, partly in protest, and partly in excitement and desire. After all, the thought of _his_ mouth _in that place _was incredibly erotic, but it rankled her pride. He tricked her! And she wasn't that kind of girl. The kind of girl that allowed a boy to raise her skirt and kiss the tops of her thighs the way Theodore was doing oh so skillfully at this very moment.

She stiffened and tried to ignore what he was doing. He would give up soon enough, wouldn't he? And the oath would be satisfied, she'd have her book and never speak to or look at him again.

But he was hard to ignore.

His lips were soft and warm and wet as he moved them slowly and gently from her the tops of her thighs to the place where her curls began, and she struggled not to squirm and tilt her hips toward him. Soon his hands were at her waist, warm and smooth, and stroking in gentle circles. Her breath caught when he moved his mouth over her cotton clad mound and breathed hot and heavy over her clitoris while his lips just skimmed the material.

The sexy seductive bastard.

By the time he had hooked his fingers into her knickers and pulled them down to expose her soft nether lips to his ministrations, she was so completely absorbed in the sensation that she didn't think to protest until he had already given her one swipe with his tongue, sending a delicious rush of tingles straight to her core. And then, of course, it was too late.

She looked down at the lump that was his head under her skirt and her fingers itched to pull up the fabric so she could see his mouth moving against her most intimate place. She held back, and the restraint only added to the build up of frustrating pleasure.

With lips and tongue and gentle brushes of teeth he stimulated her while his hands continued to roam her legs, reaching from her ankles to the small of her back, skimming ever so lightly over the sensitive flesh. She bucked her hips involuntarily and worried her knees might give out. She whimpered as the next reflexive jolt of her knees nearly caused her to collapse on top of him.

"Lay down," he whispered huskily, throwing his cloak down for her and charming it for added thickness and warmth.

She was soon trembling beneath his ministrations and he could tell she was close to orgasm. His own arousal was trapped rather painfully in his shorts. She groaned in frustration when he pulled away to adjust himself then quickly slammed her thighs closed when she saw him unfasten his trousers.

"It's okay," he assured her, "I just need to move it a bit."

He snaked his hand into his shorts and straightened himself in full view of her wide eyes. She couldn't get a look at him like this and he could tell she wanted to. With a smirk, he pulled his shorts down to reveal his erection and gave it a few strokes to emphasize his size and obvious arousal.

It wasn't the first one she'd seen, though it was definitely the most attractive, proud, and pale, and as eager as the rest of him. But sex with him was simply out of the question and she pressed her legs together even tighter at the very thought of submitting to such a degree. What she had done so far was quite humiliating enough. How was she ever going to face him again after this?

He could sense her inner conflict and took the hint. He laid back down, pressing his aroused flesh into the cool flagstone, and encouraged her to open for his lips and tongue once more. She complied hesitantly, but her mind was lost to the act. Instead of thinking of how wonderful his mouth felt, she wondered how vicious it would be when this was all over. Would all of Slytherin be laughing and making obscene gestures at her during breakfast?

Sensing that he was getting nowhere, he stopped and crawled up her body to lay beside her.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, leaning in to nuzzle and nibble her ear.

"No," she replied unconvincingly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he added.

"Not tonight, anyway," she rejoined resignedly.

It took him a moment to catch her meaning. "I'm not a gossip, Hermione," he stated firmly, a waver of offence in his voice.

She turned her face to his and searched his stormy eyes for the truth.

"Do you think," he began honestly, "that _you're_ the one they'd make fun of if they found out about this?"

She stiffened in indignity and turned her stricken face back to the ceiling.

"I don't mean it that way," he reassured her, "I mean that I had to trick you into letting me kiss you and lick you. That I wanted to do it that much."

He could feel her begin to relax and went in for the kill, "I'll never tell, though I'm not ashamed to want you. You're very sexy, you know? Especially when you're bossy and angry."

She let out a puff of laughter. "You must think I'm sexy all the time then."

"Pretty much," he agreed, leaning in to nibble her ear again and reaching an arm around to cup her cheek and tip her lips toward his.

Her kiss was hesitant at first, but as he gently caressed her cheek and slowly drew her lips between his, she became more responsive. She could taste herself upon his lips and wondered briefly if it was wrong to like it. But, there wasn't much time or opportunity for thinking. Theodore was slowing consuming all of her senses. His clever tongue darted into her mouth to meet with hers, just a touch, and then he pulled back and drew her lips into his. Quick, fluttering kisses, flicks of tongue, and then hands.

His hand moved down her cheek, grazed her neck and gently cupped her breast. She might have protested if he had not taken that moment to finally fully enter her mouth and stroke her tongue with his. Instead of a plea for him to stop, he won a moan of approval.

He stroked her breast and tongue in a delicious rhythm, finding her tight nipple and gently pinching it through the fabric of her school blouse and plain cotton bra. She whimpered into his mouth with each tug and he felt encouraged to take the next step.

She sighed in pleasant surprise when he moved his lips from her mouth, down her jaw and to her throat, laving beneath her ear to find her sensitive spot that would send thrills through her. As his lips traveled south, his progression was hindered by her blouse and she said nothing as he popped the buttons to continue his way down to where she wanted him most.

With her blouse wide open he crawled back up her, planting kisses unencumbered until he reached her bra. He flicked the material between her breasts with his wand and it parted evenly.

She gasped and began to protest as he planted a lingering kiss between the two creamy mounds. "What did you do that for?" she hissed, "I didn't say you could."

"You didn't say I couldn't," he returned. "I can fix it just as easy," he added as he smoothed his hands up her torso to cup her breasts. "You don't like the way I'm touching you?"

"I don't like how forward you're becoming," she huffed. "I only agreed to let you kiss me and now I'm practically naked!"

"I suppose that's not very fair," he replied roguishly, "I've still got all my clothes on."

He sat up on his knees and unbuttoned his shirt swiftly, revealing his smooth chest and tight abdomen. He was thin, but quite well toned and she couldn't help but admire what she saw. But before he could begin to shrug out of his shirt, she surprised him by getting back to her feet and tugging her shirt closed.

"No," she commanded. "No more. This has gone far enough."

"Our agreement was that I could kiss you for as long as I wanted," he reminded. "I'm not done yet."

"So you say. But our agreement was for kissing only," she replied, fixing her bra and refastening her blouse.

"Fine," he sighed resignedly. "Lay back down and spread your legs."

"No," she answered angrily.

"No?" he replied, raising his brow.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stood obstinately where she was, looking down at him, her chin tilted in defiance.

"Fine," he shrugged, "I'll come to you."

He knelt before her once more, slipped his hands under her skirt and grasped her waist.

"No touching," she warned.

He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. So she was going to try to make this difficult, was she? Well, two could play that game.

He leaned in and swiped his tongue across her. He teased her for only a moment before attacking with skill and vigor. She was soon trembling and whimpering as quietly as possible. When her legs began to shake, he increased his pace and pressure until she was about to shatter. She grabbed his head to steady herself and he yanked himself away.

Her head was spinning with the pleasure of intense arousal and was horridly shocked at the loss of his contact before she could come to completion.

"No touching," he reminded.

She sucked in an indignant breath and set her jaw in a renewed determination not to succumb to his will.

He began again slowly, allowing her to wind down, but not fully. Then he attacked again. His skilled tongue brought her quickly back to the edge of orgasm and she fisted her hands and held them clenched at her side to refrain from grabbing him again. She trembled and panted and clenched, and just as she spiraled toward her pinnacle, just as she was about to break apart, he pulled away again.

"I didn't touch you!" she gasped.

"I know," he answered nonchalantly, "I was getting bored. It's not as fun if I can't touch you."

The bastard! How dare he try to manipulate her like this? She stepped away from him and into the shadows where she bit her thumb and grimaced in frustration. She wanted to cum so badly now, but she didn't want to submit to him, either. And then it came to her. She turned and eyed him with candid resolve and lust.

He raised his eyebrows and crooked his finger, motioning for her to return to him. She smiled coyly and came back to kneel facing him. He reached for her, and she shied away. He cocked his head in amused curiosity and then in sensual fascination as she slipped her own hand beneath her skirt and began to rub herself.

This was not what he had in mind, but it was a pensieve moment to be sure. Miss Know-it-All Granger, the Gryffindor princess, and best friend to Harry Potter was masturbating in full view of her Slytherin rival and would be paramour.

It was unbelievably erotic to watch her hands, one gripping the folds of her skirt lifting it just high enough for him to see her run the fingers of her second hand up and down, grinding her clit and dipping into her core. Before he knew what he was doing, he had released himself from his shorts and joined her in the act.

She gasped when her eyes fluttered open and she found Theodore, still on his knees before her, pumping slowly in time with her. She was close, so close now, and this visual was certainly helping to push her to the edge. She whimpered and panted and rolled her hips in time with her fingers as her eyes remained fixed on Theodore.

"Come for me, Hermione," he rasped.

_For him_, her mind turned over his words. _No, for me_, she pushed deeper. _For me,_ she rubbed faster. _For me,_ she began to tremble. _For me,_ she spiraled higher as his fist pumped faster. It was just there, just out of reach, if she could just, if he would just ... But she couldn't, and he didn't.

"Theo," she cried in frustration.

"Yes," he replied huskily.

"Kiss me, touch me," she demanded.

He closed the distance between them and clamped his mouth over hers, his tongue seeking hers as his hand took over her ministrations. He guided her hand to his and she took over stroking him, feeling the hard heat of him as she stroked in time with him. And it was good, so good. One of his hands was buried in her hair and the other was buried in her quim. His tongue stroked hers in rhythm with the stroke of his hand and she could feel herself coming apart around him, into him.

She shattered, and shuddered, and gushed, and moaned. She was barely conscious of the ropes of semen that shot from him as she continued to stroke him in time with her own aftershocks, but she felt each buck of his hips as he groaned into her mouth.

As he came down from his high, his heaving breaths became huffs of laughter. He collapsed on his cloak and held out his arms for her to join him with a relaxed and rather adorable grin on his face.

She slipped down beside him, exhausted, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for a languorous kiss.

"That was the best wank I've ever had," he grinned.

"Really?" she smirked, "I've had better."

He laughed uproariously and she hushed him with her hands and lips, "Shh, Mrs. Norris might hear."

"Ummm, Miss Granger," he sighed between kisses, "I think I might have struck the bargain of my life with you."

"Oh really?" she replied coquettishly.

"You agreed to let me kiss you for as long as I like. Suppose I decide I want to kiss you for the rest of my life?"

"You've only got until we leave this tower," she stated evenly, "If that is the extent of your life, it would certainly be a pity."

"Would you miss me?" he asked playfully.

"If you weren't such a manipulative, opportunistic bastard I just might."

"Unfortunately, I was not miss-sorted," he sighed in mock ruefulness.

"What about me?" she rejoined, "Aren't you going to tell me that if I wasn't such a bossy cow, we might get on better?"

"I like that you're a bossy cow. It's one of your finer attributes, as I believe I've told you once before. You're not fishing for compliments are you?" he teased.

"And what if I am?" she replied.

"Then I'll have to remind you that it isn't very ladylike to ask a gentleman to indulge you so."

"Then I'll have to remind _you_ that nothing about our association has been polite or dignified enough to be construed as either gentlemanly or ladylike."

"It's been fun, though, hasn't it?" he smiled roguishly.

She laughed softly, "Yes, partly."

"_Partly?_" he asked in mock offense.

"The parts where you were a conniving bastard weren't really all that fun," she answered.

"Liar, liar, liar," he teased, leaning in to nip her lips again, "And all the good stuff only happened because I'm a conniving bastard."

"And because I'm a bossy cow?"

"Yes, and because you are a bossy, saucy, irresistible cow."

She snuggled in closer to him. "I won't tell, you know."

"You won't tell what?" he asked.

"About your plans. And I'll help you in case things … go wrong."

"Promise?" he asked with a hopeful kiss.

"No more promises," she smirked, "but you know very well that I'm too obstinate and controlling to let that cunt Riddle get his hands on you and your magic."

His eyes widened in shock even as his mouth turned up at her audacity. She referred to the Dark Lord by his surname and called him a cunt. He crushed his mouth into hers again and felt an overwhelming surge of affection for her, which seemed to be, for the first time in his life, a wholly reciprocated emotion.

xxxxxxx

As they exchanged a heated goodbye kiss at the bottom of the tower stairs, she knew this was the start of something big and life altering. She could feel it charging the air they shared, their faces held together with lips and tongues and murmured assurances that they would meet again soon. It yawned and loomed and beckoned her heart, pressed close to his. This was just the beginning. And the sensation beat in time with her heart and feet as she scurried away to her dorm, the book tapping against her side in her cloak pocket. Her priceless manual. Her destiny's guide.

Her dark materials.

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**A/N:** That's all I've got for now. I have a sketchy outline for more, but WIP's scare me, and I can't make any promises. I'm not sure if I should go on or not.

I suppose I drew a bit of inspiration from the movie _Cruel Intentions_, with Theo's trick, though I hadn't thought of it while I was writing. It just seemed the sneaky Slytherin thing to do for a clever and randy Theo. Reading it over again, I found it a bit too familiar, but I often find that with all erotica, to be honest. If anything else pops out at you, let me know so I can give props :)

And, again, thanks so much for the reviews. All of your kind words are very much appreciated.


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